Pioneering, Punts and Paddling Your Own Canoe

When I say pioneering but I'm exaggerating, I'm not exploring the Yukon or anything like that.

I fished a previously quiet bit of the tidal Trent recently, which, thanks to Facebook reports is now much busier, with long stay carp anglers fishing for barbel, bivvied up for days. Two rods, ten ounce leads, buzzers, boilies, bangers and units.

I got talking to a really knowledgeable angler, who told me of a stretch further downstream, massively more tidal, more coloured, very deep and most importantly seldom fished.

I followed his directions and got deeper and deeper into a landscape that reminded me of the Fens. Scattered farm buildings, big fields and tiny unmade lanes. The track became narrower and narrower and I reached the end of the road where a handful of big, slightly ramshackle houses stood next to a wide, powerful river.

It was absolutely silent, even the farmyard was quiet. No voices, no vehicle noise, just the sound of a lone crow in the distance. It was a bit strange.

There were only two places with access to the river and whilst it was muddy and slippery, it was well fishable.

There was probably twelve to fifteen feet of water ten yards out with an extremely fast flow everywhere apart from the margins. It looked great, but I fished all day without a touch, making regular trips to the van for tea and the new favourite ham, cheese and onion toasties.

As it got dark a wet mist descended, leaving the trees dripping. Totally moonless, it turned pitch black very quickly. 

It was a little creepy. The van was parked right next to the river, in normal circumstances an ideal place to stay, but I felt a bit uncomfortable and drove off to another more familiar park up.

It was definitely a place I'll be fishing again though, you don't get many places that quiet and practically untouched in Old Blighty these days.

Locally, I've been fishing several small lakes for perch. Perch that may or not be present to decent sizes, so a punt. A punt that is so far not paying off, but you've got to try because one day you could hit gold.

It's very exciting fishing places that are for the most part ignored, because you really could catch anything. Or nothing of course.

No pictures of big perch, but here's one of a very small pond.

At the moment I'm struggling to catch much of note and haven't really got my teeth in to anything. 

I really need to pull my finger out.

A Week in the Life.

" A man is a success if he gets up in the morning and gets to bed at night, and in between he does what he wants to do "

Bob Dylan

His Bobness yet again hits the nail right on the head.

Monday I was back perching on two small waters, the first produced a re capture ( from last week ). I hate recaptures, so immediately headed off to the other lake, where I spend the afternoon casting livebaits in trees, hooking size 18 barbed hooks in my arse and generally fishing like a knob.

Next day the van was headed in to deepest Suffolk, trundling down tiny lanes to a lake best described as a throwback to a lost world. 

A maze of tiny bays, sunken trees, decaying lilly beds and the banks strewn with beds of water mint. Silent apart from the wildlife, it really has the feel of a place from a bygone age.

I'd gone along to catch up with The Chubmeister General, who had been on a mission to catch an eel, or failing that a carp, from this mysterious lake. Catch up we did, chatting shite all day until the autumn darkness descended and I sloped off back to the comfort of the van, leaving TCG holed up in his bivvy

The lake refused to give up any of its residents and after a morning coffee I headed off an hour north, for a recce on a new section of river, where whispers of big chub and perch had piqued my interest.

What a beautiful river it is, overgrown banks, patches of gravel and ranunculous writhing lazily in the strong flow. As an added bonus, it looked practically unfished.

I walked the banks all afternoon trying in umpteen swims, with just a single bite to show for my efforts. No matter, I'm confident it's worth a proper go this coming winter.

I parked up overnight at a riverside pub, free if you eat in the restaurant. 

Why, I don't mind if I do. £11.00 for a roast beef dinner, bloody beautiful. Perfect.

Back home the following morning, I did a quick gardening job for a neighbour, watched a pair of ravens soaring on a thermal way above the house, made some double hooks for perching and then farted about painting some floats.

Friday morning I made the dreaded trip in to town for a birthday present for S. As usual, I'd left it until the last possible moment.

I was ruthlessly efficient, in and out like Flynn, clutching my prize that ensures my bollocks remain in tact for another year.

Brilliant end to the week with a great gig at the Steamboat watching the mighty East Town Pirates and Attila The Stockbroker with his band Barnstormer 1649. A rowdy, beery ocassion as usual at this fantastic venue.

Paddle your own canoe folks.

 

Perching

I'd unfinished business with the estate lake, early spring had produced some nice roach and perch to probably a pound and a half, but I decided a "proper" go with livebaits was in order.

Catching livebaits, it's almost always a pain in the arse. Not enough, too small, too big, you know the drill. 

There's not that many prey fish in the lake from what I've seen, but the perch look in good nick.

One thing that is a mistake in my experience, is to use lives too small. All you do is end up catching smaller and smaller perch.

Of course, there's always exceptions, but a roach or a perch of 2 to 3oz is about spot on. Anything bigger and you tend to miss runs.

Whilst catching the livebaits I'd had a big bleak, probably six or seven inches long. A monster and how it got in the lake is anyone's guess. 

Two CD/ Bellers rigs were assembled and an unfortunate fish attached and swung out close to cover. The ancient home made drop offs were attached and I was fishing.

After about an hour the line pulled out from the clip with a satisfying click and a second later I saw a big swirl on the surface as a perch hit the roach.

Hustled in to the net quickly it proved to be a cracking fish of 2lb 4oz in absolutely pristine condition. A good start.

A couple of perch around the 1.5lb mark followed and then a very greedy small fish with eyes far bigger than its mouth.....actually that's not true....

The following day I was back. Slightly less activity but another beauty of 2lb 6oz made it worthwhile. 

It's always a pleasure to fish here, tucked away in the valley surrounded by a big wood and away from the madding crowds.

This coming week I may be off in search of barbel and zander. On the other hand it may be more perching.

We'll see.

You Can't Always Get What You Want

Copyright Mick 'n Keef 1969

Since the ridiculously successful and enjoyable European trip I've been mostly catching next to nuffink.

Last Sunday the camper was pointed in the direction of the glorious north Norfolk coast in search of bass. We ( Bully and me ) were covered for all eventualities, I'd dug lug and ragworm locally for two bloody days on the trot and the lure box was full.

The post equinox tides were perfect, as were the conditions and I knew exactly where to go. Or so I thought. 

Unfortunately the fish had other ideas and on the first evening we ended up with a couple of smallish bass and a few flatties. Not really what I was expecting. 

The following day we made a long trek with the lure rods to a beautiful and remote spot that had been producing good numbers of fish in recent weeks.

We gave it a good try but totally failed and the walk back seemed a bit longer than earlier in the day, where we strided out full of expectation.

What to do the rest of the week ? Head for the tidal Trent, that's what.

Bully had sloped off home to pick his wounds so I was flying solo this time.

The river looked spot on, about four or five feet up and nicely coloured. I caught bream ( of course ), roach, dace, chub, bleak, pike and zander, but not a sign of a barbel. To me, that's unfathomable.  It's full of them and even the long stay "carbarbellers" who camped out overnight were not catching.

At first I was a bit disappointed, but sitting in a country pub demolishing a fantastic breakfast I pondered on being lucky enough to spend so much time fishing and pleasing myself.

On the last day I tried a new spot and had a variety of species, nothing to set the world alight, but a bit of action nonetheless. 

The promised rain held off all day and at one stage I was in a T shirt such was the power of the sun. Later in the afternoon it felt a bit more autumnal but I made it back to the camper without getting soaked and with my first Trent zander under my belt.

It blew a hoolie overnight and after a leisurely breakfast I headed home, singing along to the greatest playlist in the world for three hours. 

Love it.

. 

Asptastic

We had a great cycle ride to the German border and stopped at a lovely cafe literally on the demarcation line.

It was a crossroads of cycle paths, loads of casual cyclists having a ride in the countryside. Very few lycra clad pros in their mirror shades and silly clip on shoes.

The nachos we ordered in the cafe were the absolute dooh daahs, as was the ice cream and what nots and the Belgium beer wasn't too bad either. A lovely day out.

Our park up was on a part of the river Maas that was ridiculously deep and totally lacking in flow. Unsurprisingly, my feeder fishing resulted in a total blank.

However, I had noticed lots of fry in the shallow margins and every now and again a predator would attack and the fish would scatter. Most looked like perch, but occasionally larger fish would hit the prey fish shoals.

A small plug ( or as they say nowadays, "hardbait" ) was clipped on which resulted in several perch of various sizes.

A bit of fun, but I was interested in what those larger crashes were, pike maybe ? Catfish ? Asp perhaps , but I thought they were fish of fast water ?

After the bike ride, the sky blackened and the wind got up to ridiculous levels. We were in for a storm.  It didn't last long and blew itself out entirely and when the rain stopped, I poked my head out the camper door.

The river was flat calm. Not a ripple.

Dusk was encroaching, so I grabbed the lure rod, net and lures and headed down to the water.

I clipped on a surface popper and just before I cast, saw a huge crash in the margins as an unseen predator hit some unfortunate shoal fish.

Third cast I was just about to lift the popper out and out of nowhere the lure was hit with venom and the water erupted under the rod tip. Ten or fifteen seconds of mayhem followed before it was hustled into the net.

An asp and a good one too, maybe 6lb or so. Well pleased with that to say the least.

Next morning I tried again....but you knew that.

No activity at all so after fifteen minutes I gave up and headed back for tea and biscuits. 

We were moving on to another area and whilst packing the van I heard a huge crash in the margins fifty yards from the van.

Interesting.  Mid morning, bright sunshine but they were obviously on the hunt.

Again, lure rod and net grabbed and five minutes later another asp smashed into the popper in literally inches of water.  Another short but savage fight and he was in the net.

Another nice one of 5lb ish I guess. Lovely.

Pleased with that one too. Bit of opportunism.

Asptastic.

Canals and Carp

We headed south to the Dutch/Belgium border, just on the outskirts of Maastricht.  What a lovely city, really vibrant. Lots of young people being a University town, the place has a lovely feel to it.

The river Maas was walking distance from the site, but work was being carried out on the adjacent canal and extra water was being pumped into the river.

The levels were up and down like a spate river making fishing extremely difficult.  A pity, as it was a cracking bit of river, with lots of fast water, creases and pools.

I managed a couple of barbel on a short morning session before the sun got up and it became too hot. For me, anyway.

Goggle eyed fecker eh ?

Next morning I was up for an early morning bike ride and got chatting to a carp angler on the canal.  He said he'd not caught anything. After a while, having established I was a visitor and not a total helmet, he said, actually he had caught something.

He wasn't kidding. A 51lb carp.

I helped him lift in out for a photo. It was enormous, the biggest carp I've ever seen.

A proper wild fish, from a huge canal network. Good work. Proper carping.

The day before I'd spotted half a dozen carp feeding in a bay just off the canal. They were sending up huge silt clouds and occasionally rolling. If I'd have had time I'd have had a go for them, but you can't do everything. 

A few days later we found a nice park up just over the border in Belgium, right on the canal. As luck would have it, there was what turned out to be an absolutely fantastic little restaurant two minutes walk away. Perfect.

There were some great bike rides along the waterways, all on proper cycle paths. Plenty of anti tank turrets from WW2 along the way if you're interested in that sort of thing. 

I went in the local post office to get a fishing permit and was there for over forty five minutes. 

There was a problem with their IT system because they couldn't find "Great Britain" or "United kingdom " on it. Yes, really.

The woman rang head office and eventually agreed that the UK did exist and she could give me a permit.

We didn't catch much for a couple of days really, but had a nice time nodding about, eating, drinking, cycling and fishing.

Still Catching

I tackled up the little 6' 8" lure rod, clipped on the faithful Salmo Thrill and headed off for a new area, a crib where the water was even more turbulent and pacey than the others.

As soon as me and T, the Dutch boy, arrived the asp showed themselves by crashing in to shoal fish along the edge. First cast and I get a savage take, a small asp of around 2lb. A nice start.

Then I hooked a tiny pike and manage to get a treble in my thumb past the barb. One strong heave with forceps and it's out. 

Next cast and a fish hits the lure inches from the edge, I shout out that it's a zander, but no, its a cracking perch.

To finish off the evening I get another asp, another cracking session.

Next day I'm on the feeder in a new swim. It was a bit slow, but the first bite resulted in what I first thought was a nase or sneep, but after subsequently talking to some Dutch anglers I'm reliably informed it's a bluenose ( vimba vimba in Latin ). A fish that has infiltrated the Rhine system via the Danube

What a beautiful fish.

I had several around the 2lb mark with the best clocking in at 2lb 6oz. 

They really do pull in the fast water. 

I was having to use an 80 gram feeder with legs to hold the bottom, as the flow increased and decreased according to the boat traffic. These ships are truly massive and the amount of water they displace is incredible. 

I chucked a barbel rod out in the fast water and just about held with a 100 gram feeder with legs. The tip didn't move for three hours but as I was packing away the baitrunner screamed and I was in.

After a short tussle a nice fish of 6 or 7lb was in the net, not before it managed to snap one of the landing net arms. Or maybe that was me.

Well chuffed with that. I must admit it was a bit "chuck it and chance it". I wasn't building up the swim, I just chucked a feeder out and left it. Lazy git.

Anyway, it worked.

In the afternoon we had a long bike ride. We got back, I poured a nice cold beer and S said she was going to have a fish with the lure rod for ten minutes.  I said it's middle of the afternoon, bright sunshine, three foot of water, no flow , you're wasting your time.

First cast she gets a small asp.

Shows what I know.

Moving on tomorrow, but I'd happily stay here for a few more days.

Love it.